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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839497">Mornings at Granny's</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoe19blink/pseuds/zoe19blink'>zoe19blink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoe19blink/pseuds/zoe19blink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested on Tumblr to my ouat-rare-pairs blog. It's always open for requests, guys, so don't be shy.<br/>Essentially, this particular one-shot is my attempt at fluffy Regal Cricket. I've never written it before, so buckle up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mornings at Granny's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ever since the curse broke, life had turned upside down and everything was out of place. It was like walking on visibly shifting plates, waiting for the earthquake that rumbled threateningly beneath his feet. Psychologically, Archie knew that the uncertainty was escalating his anxiety and the best means of recapturing his peace of mind was to adapt to the new reality; but—true to the stereotype—therapists made the worst patients, and he simply clung to his routines to salvage some control.</p><p>The mornings were particularly pleasant: a quick walk with Pongo down Main Street, before going to Granny’s for an Earl Grey, two slices of toast, and a side of bacon for Pongo. He would sit at the counter and peruse the newspaper, contentedly stirring his tea while the Dalmatian dozed at his feet.</p><p>But routines are meant to be broken, as was his on that particularly rainy Tuesday.</p><p>“Are you using that syrup?”</p><p>At first, he didn’t realize she was speaking to him: as a general rule, Regina avoided speaking to anyone, outside of necessity. From his peripheral vision, he could see the outline of her hair neatly coifed around her shoulders; while her dark eyes tried to catch his. It was impossible to escape Regina’s eyes, so he looked up in surprise.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry?” he asked politely.</p><p>“That syrup.” She pointed at the silver pitcher near his plate. “Are you using it?”</p><p>“Oh.” Archie laid his newspaper flat and retrieved the syrup, handing it to her carefully to avoid spilling. Regina smiled in gratitude and poured a modest amount over her pancakes.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him.</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>He returned to his newspaper, trying to refocus on the story about winter squash and its culinary potential. <em>Soup is a particularly versatile way to utilize the squash, </em>the article claimed. <em>Savory and sweet notes both compliment its mild flavor—</em></p><p>“Anything interesting in there?”</p><p>Archie glanced sideways, caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. Regina was looking back, somewhat awkwardly; half a smile on her face. She was clearly making an effort to carry a conversation, but he hadn’t the slightest idea <em>why. </em>Their last session had ended…well, poorly, to say the least: she’d stormed out with a barrage of insults, spitting the words “cricket” and “bug” in between rude suggestions.</p><p>She must have read it in his face, because her smile faded into something that was almost apologetic. “I…let my temper get the best of me last time,” she exhaled “You were only trying to help. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you.”</p><p>“That’s all right.” Archie pushed his newspaper away and turned in his seat to face her, a gentle smile on his face. “I appreciate the apology.”</p><p>Regina pursed her lips. “I didn’t say I apologize,” she said in a clipped voice. “I was only acknowledging that you didn’t deserve it.” She smoothed her hair back, suddenly the supercilious queen again. “I don’t need to apologize for anything.”</p><p>Archie nodded slowly, not quite buying it. “Pride is a difficult thing to give up,” he observed. “Especially for a woman like you, I think.”</p><p>“A woman like me?” Regina raised an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me, Dr. Hopper?”</p><p>“I’m not your doctor anymore,” Archie chuckled. “You made that abundantly clear. You can call me ‘Archie’.”</p><p>A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Are you profiling me, Archie?”</p><p>He tilted his head, considering her. “I’d say, you’re more of a case study,” he said finally. “You’re too, erm…<em>unique </em>to fit a specific profile.”</p><p>Regina eyed him shrewdly. “Uniquely psychotic?”</p><p>“Uniquely complicated,” he corrected.</p><p>“Complicated,” she echoed, propping her chin in the palm of her hand. “Interesting…Most people just write me off as the ‘Evil Queen’.”</p><p>“I think I know you a little better than that.”</p><p><em>“Hmph,</em>” she muttered in amusement. “Perhaps you do.”</p><p>The conversation seemed to end itself there: Regina turned back to her breakfast and Archie to his newspaper. He was fully prepared to consider this an isolated incident: pleasant, if a bit bizarre. That theory was dashed when Wednesday morning, she seated herself beside him at the counter and once again asked for the syrup.</p><p>His routine slowly shifted from Earl Grey and newspapers to waiting for Regina’s arrival: every morning she would come in, order the same pancakes she had the day before, and ask him for the syrup. They would exchange pleasantries, spilling bits and pieces of personal trivia in between <em>thank-you</em>’s and <em>your-welcome’</em>s. There were some days when he purposefully moved the silver pitcher next him, until Ruby took the hint and started delivering his order with a side of syrup.</p><p>“You know,” Regina said thoughtfully, several weeks later, “I’m really starting to lose my taste for pancakes.”</p><p>Archie raised his eyebrows.”Are you?” he asked, privately wondering if there was some hint in there he was supposed to catch.</p><p>“I am.” Regina pushed her half-eaten plate away with a sigh, and turned sideways in her seat, facing him. “I don’t think I’ll be asking you for the syrup.”</p><p>“Oh.” Archie tried to keep his voice light, even as the heavy disappointment weighed on his shoulders. He’d rather been enjoying their mornings.</p><p>“I’ll have to just invite you over for dinner.”</p><p>He blinked; then leaned forward, certain he’d misheard her. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Any allergies I should know about?” Regina asked with raised eyebrows. “Or specific food aversions?”</p><p>Archie gave a shake of his head. “N-no, I don’t think—”</p><p>“Perfect.” Regina smiled. “I hope you like lasagna. It’s sort of my specialty.”</p><p>“Um—” He struggled to pull his words together, too stunned to fully grasp what was happening.</p><p>“My house. Eight o’clock,” she decided, standing up from her seat.</p><p>Archie stared at her as she tossed down a few bills and pulled on her coat. She fluffed her hair out, slung her purse over her shoulder, and turned to him with a curious warmth in her eyes, a softness he had never seen.</p><p>“You <em>will </em>come, won’t you?” Her voice was less authoritative; more uncertain, almost hopeful.</p><p>He nodded: slowly at first, then more vigorously, breaking into a smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “Eight o’clock.”</p><p>She swept away, but not before he caught her smile: the first genuine smile he had ever seen from Regina Mills. He dared not take credit for it, but there was something remarkable about the possibility.</p><p>It seemed that things were definitely changing. His routines were in shambles and if Regina Mills was going to go around smiling, the world was once again turning upside down.</p><p>But he didn’t mind as much. Things were out of place, yes; but they were also in a <em>better</em> place.</p>
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